Big Smack: Tokyo
by Mewdu
Summary: <html><head></head>The Academy is a safe haven. You will love the Academy. You will cherish the Academy. To escape the Academy's kindness means death. "That's comforting."</html>
1. Introduction

**This is a test. I'm posting this first little bit to see how (if?) anyone likes the plot.**

**This is nearly AU. It's not based in the original Gakuen Alice world, but it still takes place in Tokyo. *points at title* This first chapter is actually an introduction. To call this long piece of crap a prologue would be ridiculous, so it remains categorized as generally: Intro. ****Not that it's long.**

**So I'm taking Gakuen Alice for a realistic spin. You'll see what I mean by the first chapter (the true one) when (if?) I get there. But that's about it. Nah. That is it.**

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><p><em>Introduction<em>

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><p>He could move his fingers.<p>

Natsume vaguely sensed the alice restraints cascaded skillfully over nearly every inch of skin. It was in the suit, the gloves, and the cuffs strung so tight around his wrists, blood welled up under the skin in bloody bruises ringed in yellow and brown. Even if the inhibitors within the bondage were linked throughout fabric and chain alike, he could not even touch upon an insignificant amount of the awaiting pain. They'd shot him up with some sort of needle before chaining him down in this interrogation sector, deliriously woken numb to three foreign faces. He'd expected Persona, Kuonji at least.

But these were kids in suits with glistening special-star ranks. One, clearly the supervisor, stuck close to the door with his sunglasses over his eyes. It was Toji. One familiarly hidden face he could recognize. Toji possessed a teleportation alice, one or two star at most. That, Natsume figured he could have handled, but only if he had managed to break free of the restraints wrapped around his ankles. And even then, there would be outside elite guards, and the effects of the serum slowing him down would be hell. A first escape from the Academy had taken planning, weeks, months of strategically placed steps. But maybe. Maybe with Luca it would be possible to chance it twice.

_No! _Natsume grit his teeth. Dragging Luca into his screw up would be selfish, even if the fool would risk it in a heartbeat for him, least of all _her_. He watched as the taller one stepped up, lips twitched up into a sardonic grin, and decided this was better than Luca dead. He was safe in sect Som., far away from the clutches of the Dangerous class. Natsume knew he had been the only one caught.

It was better that way.

"_Bitch_," a whisper shot against his ear before his head smacked against the table. The numbing syringe blurred the pain he should have felt, but he could taste the grainy blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. Natsume glowered at the boy's back as he laughed. The voice was distinguishable, irritatingly so. No one else had a pitch that sounded as if they'd surgically skewered their vocal cords and strung them so tight the tone barely fell below the sporadic squeak from a trapped rat.

"Akeo," the tall boy warned him lightly, his frown small and brow furrowed in annoyance. Akeo turned, revealing the same pinched face and easy smirk Natsume had seen wide-eyed and struck still weeks ago like a frightened doe when the sharp point of a knife traced a pretty picture into his skin. Natsume mentally sketched the scar that trailed at a diagonal slash through his left eye and stopped just at his right cheek. The skin was no longer split in two and running blood like tap water, but the damage had been deeply enough inserted to leave him an ugly, ruddy colored puckered scar.

"My bad." Akeo's silver eyes danced across Natsume's face as he grinned. "Interrogation, blah, blah, blah. _Then_ we beat the shit out of him."

Natsume laughed quietly, goading the madness filtering over Akeo's eyes as a cloudy shine. Months before, arriving here, Akeo had been consistently angry, and sickeningly cruel when he dealt with any student even tempted by the word of "freedom" outside the Academy. Now, Akeo would drag out his death if he could manage to conceal it. By accident, Natsume knew his body would be mangled beyond humane restraint if someone did not step up to hinder Akeo's anger. That was why Hajime was there, between the shadows of the door and wall in the corner, face obscured by gauzes when he suddenly appeared, his white dressing ghostly under the trembling fluorescent light. Akeo's enraged lunge froze, his face suspended pale and taunt with fear. Natsume had never much bothered with the D-sect operatives, even when he'd had reason to as a respectable member before. It was common knowledge Hajime kept to himself, and never angered easily unless teased to the point of snapping. Death was common concerning their sect, accidents mere rumors when a body could be hidden. There were too many names to count that had been thrust under the deceased archive in under a day when the situation intermingled with Hajime's personal agenda. Persona never questioned his actions, and Kuonji steered clear of the matter entirely. Hajime was one of the rare feared of, even in their class.

Akeo shrunk away, but took to glaring at Natsume from his position against the wall.

The taller boy that spoke next introduced himself as Isi and Natusme instantly grew aggravated with his tight tone. He sounded as if he had a stick inserted somewhere unpleasant, and his nasal accent was irritating to listen to for extended period of times. But Isi speaking kept the other three silent, even Akeo, who seemed about ready to extend his fidgeting hands and strangle him. Natsume sat still and observed their jumpiness curiously. If Isi had an alice that sparked tenseness within even Hajime, then the alice might be a three star, maybe a special.

The thought unnerved him.

"Mikan Sakura is of primary interest to the Academy." Natsume's attention snapped to Isi's quiet face. "Ah," his smile slithered up into a grin, "_that_ received your attention."

Natsume bit his tongue and met Isi's gaze without falter. Nothing, say _nothing_. He had to keep his mouth shut. But he could feel it. His jaw shook as he fought with the sudden want for motion of his mouth. Isi had just revealed his alice.

"Nerve manipulation. Yes." Isi grinned again, a visual habit that ignited a fresh anger within Natsume as he stood perfectly erect, hands clasped in front.

They had created the perfect Academy clone.

"I can't exactly control you, unfortunately." As if performing an experiment, Isi lifted a finger and Natsume lurched forward when a sharp pain exploded in his side. Akeo chuckled, but Isi held up a hand to shush him. "They informed me of your...mulish behavior regarding pain. Not many can burden the magnitude of my alice. It should be an interesting race between us."

It began like a burn, a throbbing itch just below his knee before the agony ignited under his skin again. Natsume flickered in and out of consciousness as the pain obliterated his senses, first in his legs, then his arms as he thrashed. The chair groaned under his torment. A nerve ending exploded beneath his temple so quick, Natsume barely registered the action of lashing out to the side so hard the floor below his foot obliterated into a cloud of black ash.

The throbbing underneath his skin subsided to a dull thrum. Natsume lifted his eyes, taking slow, shaky breaths in with each little gasp of air. All four Dangerous class operatives watched him with wary gazes, attention divided between the crater in the floor and Natsume's face.

"Get out of my damn body," he growled.

"Mikan Sakura escaped from the haven this academy provided," he began as if nothing had altered the atmosphere, as if Natsume Hyuuga had not just thwarted the restraints locked around his legs. He could feel the burn; no doubt his skin mirrored the effects from the red scorch mark pulsing against his calf. Full body restraint suits reflected an alice when used. A bad idea that had proved useful.

"She spurred a foolish rebellion as cause of her actions. Three other students also fled. Others we're sure were influenced and even assisted the rebels." Isi appraised him with a distant gaze now. "What are your thoughts on this Mikan Sakura?"

Each D sect boy remained attentive in his direction. Isi's black eyes drilled into Natsume's forehead when he looked at the floor under his feet, the spot now tainted black from a fire he should not have been able to create. They were going to kill him when the truth finally revealed itself. Either torture that knocked him senseless or a carelessly placed clue would expose everything. But their understanding was pathetic, striking uselessly at shadows in the dark and flailing threats around a lead that would convey to them nothing.

For just that he was going to die.

Of Mikan Sakura, what did he think? The nullification girl with an affinity for patterned panties. Oh, what indeed.

What. Exactly. Did. He. Think?

The thought brought a smile to his buzzing numb lips.

"She's lucky."

Akeo's fist was the unanimous reply.

:-_-:

Anyone could have materialized at the unguarded door. Natsume would not have cared. The numbing effects the syringe granted him had begun to slowly ebb away an hour ago. Akeo had lost his awareness of control entirely, and Natsume could barely sustain himself upright without reeling from the bruises and cuts throbbing with every twitch the attack had left him with. Akeo's alice was strength. Wounds Akeo inflicted took twice the time to heal, and his ribcage seemed particularly irritated that Natsume dared to even breathe.

The bonds around his hands and legs supported his sagging self bit by agonizing bit as he slipped in and out of conscious thought. He almost feared that he had indeed died or fallen asleep when the door slipped open with a slight creak, and a booted foot stepped through. The face was one he recognized. Natsume nearly let himself fall into a small smile, but his common sense struck the friendly gesture stiff.

It was Koko.

_You shouldn't be here._

Natsume nearly growled the statement. But Koko paused in step toward him, sensing the thought instantly. The permanent smile on his lips grew slightly tight. They both knew it was a foolish thought to ponder when they had both been there the day Natsume was captured. It was ironic. That same day, suffering the same cruel fate. Koko laughed, the amusement eerie in the white-walled box, alone.

He tilted his face slightly, and Natsume finally noticed the scars. There were three of them on his left cheek. Three perfectly drawn jagged cuts were etched into the smooth skin. The claw like precision was similar to the work of an enraged cat.

Sumire.

_Spurred by love, huh?_

Koko smiled a rueful, dark little smile. Sacrificing themselves had proved lethal. Koko and Natsume now faced each other, wedged between a crossroad of life and death. Both of them were going to die, they'd been sure of that before the rebellion. But the Academy was not yet finished with the two of them. They were just going to push, and pull, and prod until their final connections to Mikan Sakura were husks wrung dry.

Koko strode closer.

_They want answers._

Natsume stared at Koko, wondering when he had learned to project his thoughts. It would make sense that Koko had hidden the ability for years. The Academy would have extended the testing on his brain, paralyzing what little freedom he possessed as a simple one-star to the core. _You hate the Academy._

It was personally impossible for Koko to side. His want for Sumire to be cut loose was obvious, but Natsume was sure he had risked his life for something more than that. Koko's smile fell at the accusation. It was a thick, hallowed feeling that assaulted Natsume then. He had never been close to Koko. He was no Mikan. She had brought them all together with her oblivious nature. Her smiles and warm innocence even under constant watch had led them all astray the Academy path. She had born the rebellion by simply existing.

Koko allowed one last smile.

_I'm sorry, Natsume._

It was the final thought for either of them before Natsume's conscious shattered.

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><p><strong>Hmm. Yeah. About those OCs...sorry for anyone who hates OCs. I personally hate them as well. They're always perfect beef cakes or knock-outs with dark pasts and and overwhelming amounts of empathy. But the birthing of them was...necessary. <strong>

**Let me know what you thought. Or just...meh. **

**This was just a random idea. **


	2. Yoichi

**Yeah~chapter 1. Whoop! Starting a new story always gets me excited. I can't wait to write future parts. But that excitement's for later, for now I have some little explanations to drop by you for a better understanding. Ages:**

**Natsume should be fifteen, and Mikan fourteen. This mean that, yes, Tsubasa and the gang will have to be in the Senior Division if Mikan and the gang are in the Junior Division. I had to warp some ages around to connect the storyline correctly, so some people, like Hijime, will be pushed back a year or two. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, I'm just trying to make the story interesting without having to have a annoying amount of OCs in here. I like the original characters and I intend to use them. Most of them show up in ch. 2 though. Hope you guys stick around for that. Koko'll be there.**

**Yeah. That was bait.**

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><p><em>Yoichi<em>

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><p>The reaction took exactly 48 days.<p>

For one thousand and one hundred and fifty-two hours they had surveyed his thoughts.

In 69,120 minutes he had sat in that same room, lulling away into an identical dream state and popping the psychiatric pills they slipped him.

4,147,200 seconds was when he finally snapped.

A headset was positioned over his ears, and a microphone curled snug against his throat. He could hear the thrum of the machine beside him, knew he could easily reach and run his fingers along the icy surface. But he remained rigid, strapped around the waist to a chair. A simple precaution, they'd constantly laughed it off as. For what, he'd wanted to shoot back, just to see. But he had a feeling they would never reply. Natsume had seen plenty of numerous Academy kids disappear suddenly within the day. No one dared defy the rule. The restriction was a silent dedication they'd sworn to under fear of becoming what—what exactly would it be?

He wanted to know why.

It had been an experiment. He slipped away the headset around his ears. The action had instantly set off a slow, steady beep. Maybe in frustration from listening to the constant, droning voice including, "_The Academy is a safe haven. Do not ever defy the Academy," _he slammed a fist down onto the machine's top. The metal caved under the pressure of his fist, imprinting the motion of his knuckles. The robotic tone sputtered and squeaked.

"Do not-do-do-dot-di-ac-ac-"

Natsume lifted up the palm of his hand and closed his eyes. The heat grew quickly, but despite himself, Natsume was not surprised by the revelation. They'd said the pills would make the hallucinations better like a cylinder band aid that dissolved in your stomach. The reality appeared in his outstretched fingers. A flame fluttered up, weak as a matchstick light, then as large as his palm. Natsume smiled to himself, relishing the warmth from the flame against his bare skin.

The Academy wasn't going to like this.

The machine exploded outward in bulky, sharp shards of metal. The blast from the flame had burnt through the whole middle section of the machine, and touched against the wall behind it. A hole large enough to crouch through gaped open, tempting Natsume where he sat brushing bits of scolding metal from his pants. He peeled a small piece from his cheek, flinching when the thin bit tore away a small slice of skin.

"Not the best idea…" he mumbled.

The belt he seared through next. Alarms blared incessantly around him, much louder than the warning signal from the headphones that had fallen silent after the frontal attack on the main controls. Natsume hesitated but a second, wondering if the pills had dug into his consciousness. He may be asleep even now, like the doctors and therapists had said the first day. They had explained he had started the flame unconsciously with a match and only believed he could create fire. The only thing that kept him from setting back into that chair and yielding to the sedation from a sterilized needle point was the recollection of the imprint _arsonist_ on the file handed over along with him when he'd first been wheeled in here, strapped down like a rabid animal, tubes stuck up his nose and arms. But when he ran a finger along the sharp edge of the shattered wall, the metal was still hot enough to buzz irritatingly against his bare skin. No arsonist could do that. So he tore his hand away and crouched through the hole.

Outside the alarms were louder. The buzzer bounced along the metallic hallways and pulsed against his skin as he walked, trailing the sound as it grew in volume. He turned a corner, smirking when he spotted the two-tonged alarm bell locked under a metal barricade. He lifted his hand, imagining the flame bristling hot against his fingertips. The alarm exploded before he opened his eyes to assess the damage. Pieces of red iron were steaming at his feet, half-melted to simmering little puddles.

The silence was instant. Bells still rung from the room he'd left, but distantly, far enough that his ears felt leaden from the sudden quiet. He lifted his hands. His fingers were shaking, trembling when he placed them to his face. They were warm to the touch.

_He's a threat to society._

A scream tore from his lungs, and he vaulted his fist into the wall. The pain exploded under his knuckles and he seethed between his teeth. Both hands fell against his sides, and he leaned against the cold metal, breathing softly as the dull bell rang, and rang, and rang.

The click of a gun startled him into turning. He threw up his hands, palms out, eyes growing wide in realization when he felt the heat simmer beneath his skin and pulse outward on instinct. The man screamed. His leg was engulfed between a veil of flames. He flailed wildly, his face contorted in shock as he ripped at his pant leg, cooking the flesh of his hands. The weapon dropped and erupted a flurry of scattered bullets into the stricken atmosphere. Natsume ducked. A shield of flames wavered out of thin air around him, fragmenting his vision of the man and dancing bullets as they ricocheted off the walls.

It only took one bullet into his skull to silence the anguised cries.

His body crumpled to the floor. Natsume's wall of flame whispered out like a dying candlelight. He could see the face, upturned toward the ceiling. His lips were parted from a scream and his eyes open, staring at a soulless vision. Natsume stepped forward and stopped, wondering just what he would do. A prayer would be ridiculous. The man had shot himself in the head from panicked reaction. It was not his fault.

_You started the fire._

Natsume felt himself flinch from the thought. He could see the tortured leg too. His flame had chewed through the fabric. Blackened flesh peaked out from the charred opening. The backs and front of his hands were red and strewn across with blisters. The bullet had entered through the side of his head. Blood seeped from the wound and slowly pooled onto the white tiles, soaking his cloths. _Drip…drip…drip_

"Natsume."

Natsume's gaze darted up. Another man was standing beyond the crumpled body. His skin was ghostly pale, and his black hair struck against the light tone like a whip. A dark jacket hung around the man's thin frame, long in the arms and halting just above his booted feet. His black eyes sidled over Natsume in mute assessment. Both hands were gloved. He lifted one to his lips and hid a discreet, very light chuckle.

He shook his head once, just once.

Within one blink of his own eyes, the man was gone.

Natsume ran toward the spot where he'd disappeared. He slid in the pool of blood on the floor and grasped the wall, fingers slipping away when he bolted forward. His boots squeaked on the tiles as he ran, head twisting left and right in desperation to spot that same hallowed face. The last corner granted him a door. He paused at first, fingertips stretched toward the knob hesitantly. Every hallway had been stark white floors and steel walls and doors. This door was wooden with a golden knob. He grasped it, half-expecting a jolt of electricity. Instead he found the knob was cold under his warm hand, a slight icy buzz against his skin so different from the comfortable warmth he was constantly enshrouded in.

When he stepped through, the first thing he noticed was the smell. The air tasted heavy against his tongue, littered with the musky scent of people, smells he remembered distantly from before the Academy. Within these steel caves, Natsume had only known the pungent odor of sharp medicine and cleaner fluid. But this was different. This fact was instantly proven by the soft carpet running under his feet. It slid along the wooden floorboards, stopping only at the end where he could only make out a cut-off for a corner.

Each door he passed was labeled with a number and a star underneath. Most only had one imprinted star beneath their room number. Others had two, and once he saw a triple star. The layout almost suggested as if these were dorm rooms of a school. But the wooden corridors seemed morbidly ironic considering the metal dormitories they lived in just on the opposite side of the building. They were lucky to have a cot and toilet. He momentarily teased himself it could be for the staff, but with so many rooms it was impractical.

The wavering muffled chatter jolted Natsume from his spot. He cursed, eyes jumping from side to side, searching for an escape. This hallway only led straight down or back. Hell if he went back. Natsume lingered outside one door to his left, plaited by the number 13 and a one star indentation. He slid inside just as he spotted two guards cross the corner, guns strapped to their hips clinking as they sauntered beside each other.

Inside the room, it was pitch black. Natsume maneuvered nimbly and quietly, loud breaths locked away inside his chest. He flinched once and bit back a grunt when his toes slammed into something hard. It toppled over and clattered, freezing him in his position when someone inside the room shuffled under covers. He blinked, blurred and fuzzy images outlined in the dark as his eyes fumbled to adjust. One figure, he supposed the occupant, was under a large mound, slowly rising. The covers fell away, revealing the curious face of a small child.

"Stupid brats," he heard outside the hallway. "Get more rebellious every day. Only give us these damn tranquilizers."

The kid stared at him with round, blue eyes. Neither of them blinked. Natsume hesitated, not sure how to approach the child. He appeared four, maybe five. But he hadn't started hollering at the sight of him. His liquid gaze lingered over Natsume as the two guards lumbered outside, tones heightening as they traveled closer. His small mouth opened once, and a squeak of a yawn exited from him. He slipped from his bed and crawled slowly toward Natsume, tiny hands reaching toward his foot.

Natsume remained unmoving, studying the boy as he lifted the toy from the ground, the small truck he had tripped over and awakened him with. He held it up, small fingers pausing on an edge that had chipped. The air crackled around his ears as the small boy kept running his hands over the broken edge again and again. Natsume watched silently, entranced by the odd behavior. The doorknob rattled.

"Not again," he heard one of the guards moan. "I hate this kid. He's not like the others…"

The rattling stopped.

"_Please _don't start that again. He's just three, anyway. Not like he can do anything to you."

The knob continued to shake. There was a click as a key was inserted, then silence. "Dammit," the man hissed. "Give me your set. I grabbed the wrong ones."

Natsume darted across the room, careful to step around the boy. He felt about for the closet, stopping only when he felt a small tug at his leg. He looked down, patience thinning out by the second when the little boy was there, sitting and clutching the truck. Natsume noticed the air around him seemed fractured, like he was encased in his own bubble. Then he saw what exactly had grasped his leg. It wasn't the small fingers of the little boy. These fingers were icy talons wrapped around his ankle. The smoky fog protruded from the haze around the little boy. His eyes stared up at Natsume, glittering innocently as he hugged his broken toy truck. Natsume shook his head of the sight, figuring the pills had clouded him with worse thoughts.

Natsume ducked inside the closet and kicked away the fog around his ankle. It winked out and the little boy watched him as he buried himself inside the closet, shuffling hangers in front of his face. His fingers, real fingers, touched the end of Natsume's boot. His big eyes looked up at him, half-closed in a way that seemed he would nearly always be asleep. He pushed the toy truck into his lap and slightly smiled. It was a minor tip of his mouth that almost made Natsume return the gesture. He held a finger to his lips. The little boy's smile fell, but he remained attentive in his place when Natsume shut himself inside the cabinet.

Light poked under the slit of the closet doors, brimming just at the edges of his boots. "Hey, Yoichi," one guard approached in a gentle tone, as if he were speaking to a small puppy. Natsume rolled his eyes as he watched him step toward the boy through the slit of the cabinet doors, arms outstretched. "Why're you up so early, huh?"

"Be careful," his partner warned, not even attempting to shield the fear wavering in his voice.

"Oh, shut up." The other man chuckled, hoisting Yoichi up and holding him at a distance despite the nonchalant attitude. "He's just a _kid_."

A chill raced up Natsume's spine as if the words had been the trigger switch. The air dropped in temperature, an identical hazy fog erupting from the Yoichi again. Bony, wavering arms stretched around him as limbs, fingers crooked and bent around the man frozen in place, entrapped in the monstrous vision he was witnessing.

"_Shit_," the other guard cursed. Natsume watched as he fumbled around for the gun strapped to his hip. He tugged at it weakly, fingers panicked in search for the release clip. When he finally managed to successfully load the gun and aim, Yoichi had already been left abandoned, his partner shoving past hard enough to send the dart crashing to the floor. He collapsed to his knees, hand brushing over the carpet for the lost ammunition. The boy sat still, face flat with emotion as the cloud stretched around his body. Indistinct figures burst from the mist, floating around him, groaning and barking like living creatures. Their wispy hands clawed at the man curled inside himself, knees tucked tight to his chest as blubbered and cried over the roar.

When the roaming visions subsided long enough for Natsume to clearly see, the man was gone and the boy was left alone, fingering a different toy in his hands and staring blankly. Natsume supposed he'd run away. He could still hear the distant yells from down the hall. A bell rung from somewhere, set off as cause of either his actions or the boys; he was not certain. But he knew he had to leave soon. Guards would be swarming this room as soon as they heard the hysterical tale from both men. And a possible escape would never surface twice.

He slipped out of the closet, pausing once to stoop beside Yoichi. He was neither sure if Yoichi had understood his actions or just had simply raised his hands against a stranger to protect himself. Even if just a rewarding accident, he was grateful. "Thank you," he said. Yoichi's hands reached out. He clambered up from his spot and wrapped his thin arms around Natsume's neck without a word.

"Brother," he whispered in his ear.

Natsume hugged Yoichi back lightly. He stepped away from the embrace reluctantly, cursing the Academy wordlessly in his mind. A child stuck here because he suffered the same fate as Natsume seemed much more a monstrous act than they considered their existences to be; the freaks with abilities no amount of scientific therapy sessions or solitary confinement could explain. Natsume stepped outside slowly, shutting the door behind him.

Guns clicked as the safety notches were disengaged. Red circular beams of light struck against his chest, searching for the direct place his beating heart pulsed underneath. Men clothed in helmets and armored uniforms flanked either side of him. Each option of escape dwindled in existence by the passing second. The palms of his hands grew warm and he lifted them up, calculating the rate of each death against his own if he acted fast.

"Wait." Natsume saw a man surface from the crowd. He was dressed colorfully in a white ruffled blouse, trousers checkered black and white. His curly blond hair and purple eyes escalated the increasing feminine nature as he slid between the crowd and approached Natsume, slender hands held up in surrender. "Let's think about this first, Natsume."

Natsume's irritation intensified at the sound of his name spoken so casually from a stranger. Heat bristled angrily under his palms. "Or I could just kill you."

The man smiled as if the hissed threat against his life amused him. "I assure you that will only make it worse."

Natsume's eyes darted along each face, counting each hindering factor for his escape before he focused on the feminine one again. His eyes narrowed and he smiled bitterly to himself, thinking of the dead man slaughtered in the hallway at fault of his own hand. "I don't think it can really get worse."

He raised his hands, but the man did not even flinch. The chuckle that seeped from between his lips startled Natsume out of his concentration. "I told them not to leave you by yourself. I knew you were smart. You would be one of the first to figure it out."

Natsume remained still. Despite himself, his curiosity lingered. "Figure out what?" he asked.

"You passed the test, Natsume Hyuuga." His smile tightened. He raised his hand and motioned forward just once, a bare twitch of a finger that erupted a shot from behind him. The point of a needle dug into Natsume's left shoulder, hurdling him suddenly to his knees. His vision wavered as the syringe emptied a burning liquid into his bloodstream.

"Welcome to the true Academy."


End file.
